The first time I applied to NYU, I was a high school senior, and CAS (College of Art/Science) was my top choice. I applied in the regular decision pool and was waitlisted until the end of August - at which point I was rejected.

Though the rejection came as a blow, the sting was lessened by the excitement of getting into my second choice school-- Fordham University at Lincoln Center. They ended up offering me a substantial scholarship, which I then accepted.

However, as early as my freshman year, I could tell Fordham wasn't exactly what I was looking for, but I ignored the feeling, thinking it was just a sentiment everyone had as a newcomer. I finished my first year at Fordham feeling quite underwhelmed. Was this supposed to be what college was like?

I went on to start my sophomore year, which was slightly better, but not by much. I still only had three friends, but I was beginning to think Fordham wasn't so bad.

That was until I looked around and realized I was basely unhappy. While I was excelling academically, Fordham had not made it easy for me, as a long distance commuter, to have much of a life outside of schoolwork. I came home to reunions with my high school friends (who I am still very close to) and heard them talk about how amazing college life was for them, and I couldn't be happier for them. But I wondered... why couldn't I have an amazing 'squad' or really wacky, cool class options? Why wasn't I out partying or having fun? Why didn't I have this strong sense of school spirit tying me to my campus? Why did I feel so lonely even though I was right in the heart of Manhattan?

Eventually, these thoughts led me to consider re-applying to NYU as a junior transfer to Steinhardt. (I was no longer applying to CAS because I was well into my Communications degree at this point.)

The idea of transferring excited me to no end. In early January, I started to fill out the Common Application. I sent out transcripts and recommendations months in advance of the April 1st deadline. I worked myself to the bone to get straight A's so that my midterm report would reflect what a serious student I was. I went to extra credit opportunities even when I was tired, reminding myself, "Do it for Steinhardt, do it for Steinhardt!"

I spent all of February crafting the perfect essays. My common application started and ended with references to my favorite book of all time - The Great Gatsby. I spoke of the dream Gatsby and I shared: the dream of the Green Light, the light that represented our hopes and fears; the light we would stretch out arms for and run faster just to touch.

My father stayed up late for a week helping me write my supplement, and we agonized over word choice and length until everything was just right. I asked for opinions on my essays from friends and family; even taking the essays to the Writing Center at Fordham.

On March 15th, I sent out my complete application. At this point, I was even feeling a bit bittersweet, as all my professors had been really kind and supportive when I had them sign my midterm grade report. They took it quite well considering I was basically telling them I was interested in transferring to Fordham's rival school.

I was sure, perhaps painfully so, that I would get in. It was a very difficult semester for me. Even though my grades were perfect as possible, emotionally I was a wreck. By the end of the semester, I had lost three people who were dear to me for a number of reasons. I grew tired of commuting and started to cry nearly every day on the bus because I was exhausted and lonely. I was sure I couldn't possibly be so unlucky as to get rejected on top of all that.

I became obsessed with getting into NYU because I needed a way out. I needed a fresh start. I created a College Confidential account (yeah, go ahead and laugh, I'm definitely THAT girl), and became fixated with checking my email every hour of the day for all of April and May. I prayed every day, even going as far as to walk down to Washington Square Park to pray for some good luck on the afternoon of my last final exam.

Finally, this Monday, May 16th, I received a decision. As I read the words, "The admissions committee at New York University has carefully considered your application and supporting credentials, and it is with regret that I must inform you that we are unable to offer you admission to NYU this year," I felt my heart sink.

I had started perusing of Fordham's free counseling sessions at the beginning of the semester, and I vaguely remembered my counselor telling me that NYU was a crack in the ceiling to me; a glimpse at the sky from a closed room.

As I mulled over the rejection letter, reminding myself it was my second, I could not help but feel like instead of the crack in the ceiling giving way to celestial freedom as it was supposed to, it was contracting before me; my chance at a new life slipping away.

I cried all day and wandered around my hometown aimlessly. My friends and family tried to tell me it was okay, that it was no big deal, that it was NYU's loss.

But all I could think of was how now, I would never study at Elmer Holmes Bobst Library or take Instagram pictures of Washington Square Park from the Kimmel Center for University Life or graduate in purple at Yankee stadium. I would never get to upload a triumphant profile picture in front of the Arch captioned "Yes daddy I do, give me brain like NYU" courtesy of Nicki Minaj. My last shot at the purple flame... down the drain.

Fast forward to a few days later, and I'm not really over the rejection. In some ways, I'm still mourning the loss of the person I might have become had I ended up a Bobcat at NYU. There's no doubt that after a taxing semester and a low period in my life, a rejection was the last thing I needed.

Nevertheless, after a week of ugly sobbing, eating ice cream straight out of the bucket and feeling extreme self-pity, I've come to the realization that Fordham is no joke. Sure, it's not the easiest school to make friends at, but it is still a great school nevertheless; and one that I should be proud to go to.

I've had personal attention from professors that really, really care. My minor mentor and philosophy professor was especially key in getting me to embrace a new interest in philosophy. In fact, she got me so interested in the subject that I'm doing academic philosophical readings over the summer for fun; readings she recommended over multiple office hour discussions on supplementary material that piqued my interest.

At Fordham, professors make time for their individual students, and class sizes remain decently small. If you're willing to go out of your way to show your commitment to something, Fordham professors will reciprocate and make time for you in their busy schedules.

Fordham really does care about the development of the person as a whole; or as they like to call it, Cura Personalis. Maybe I would have had a different social life at NYU, but there's no denying I already receive a world-class education at the Jesuit University of New York for half the price.

And maybe I won't graduate in purple, but I will graduate at the Fordham Rose Hill campus in the Bronx, which is consistently voted one of the prettiest college campuses in the US. Maybe Andrew Hamilton won't be giving a fancy speech in his British accent, but Father McShane will offer up some gems on what it means to be "men and women for others."

Maybe I won't be "in and of the city, in and of the world," but I will have made sure that "Fordham is my school, and New York is my campus," and that I "go forth to set the world on fire."

Sure, I'm upset about being rejected when I needed a victory. Sure, I feel disillusioned and angry and upset. Sure, I still feel like I would have fit in at NYU. But being rejected is not the end for me or for anyone. There's a whole world out there beyond my dream school.

So thank you, NYU, for teaching me the power of perseverance, for testing me. Because of you, I worked harder than I ever have in my whole life, and I had a purpose to fulfill during a difficult time in my life. Thank you for turning me down and showing me that I can be just as successful as an uptown Ram. Maybe I'll apply to you again for grad school, but at least now I know I'm capable of a 4.0 when I put my mind to it.

Thank you for knocking me down to show me I'm more than capable of getting back up.

So we beat on...